


Cherry's Cheap Changes

by Lorese



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Modification, Breast Fucking, Cock Slut, Collars, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Cowgirl Position, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Facials, Female Character of Color, Gaslighting, Genderbending, Groping, Long Hair, Male Character of Color, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Penis In Vagina Sex, Piercings, Porn, Pregnancy, Prostitution, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sex Change, Sex Toys, Smut, Stripping, Submission, Transformation, Unplanned Pregnancy, human cattle, human cow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorese/pseuds/Lorese
Summary: Terry buys a genderbending device to get a job at a strip club, but finds himself enjoying his new life a lot more!
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 75





	Cherry's Cheap Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very fun commission for @sekurettoyoshi on Twitter!
> 
> Content warning for genderbending, a bit of gaslighting, and difficulty remembering things. Everyone in the story is clearly happy in the end, though!

“We don’t hire dudes,” Mr. Horn had said. “Which job doesn’t matter. Sorry, but people expect to see ladies when they come here!”

Hard Knocks was the one and only strip club within ten miles of campus. Mr. Horn, its owner and apparently sole male employee, hadn’t even looked up from his tablet while rejecting Terry’s request for an interview, instead directing scandalous women about the building.

So the student remained unemployed yet another day — inching ever closer to his deadline.

It wasn’t that Terry _loved_ college or getting up early to attend lectures. He had just fallen into this path and didn’t know another one forward. The second year student had distanced himself from his parents, hoping to stand on his own two feet. He thought that meant getting a degree. Any degree would do, if it helped him get a job, but now he needed the job part _first_...

The problem was funds. Terry was out of them and out of options. He had worked a couple part-time jobs in the last few months to cover expenses. But he was woefully short of making tuition and covering his dorm that semester — not to mention food, gas, laundry, and everything else he discovered biting into his savings without family help.

Hard Knocks was his last option. A classmate (who was a regular) mentioned it paid exceptionally well and employed students. The university had been fighting to get it shut down for years, for exactly that reason, but some special zoning laws protected its operation. That made it a hotspot for part-timers and partygoers alike.

It did not, however, want Terry — even as a bouncer, bartender, pencil pusher, janitor, or anything else. Terry had asked about every position he could conceive. And each time Horn turned him down. Hard Knocks had no male employees. 

“Fine,” Terry huffed to nobody in particular. “I’ve got nothing to lose anyway.”

Terry was back in his dorm. He could see his green eyes and light red hair reflected in the flat, black box resting on two knees. He hesitantly lifted the lid on what represented the very last of his savings. Inside was a silver cylinder, no bigger than a dry erase marker.

The device wasn’t what Terry would call cheap. It was, however, very far from the highest end of nano-injectors even available to the public. It was off-brand: the only type he could afford. But the relatively new model did have decent reviews online. He had bought it off the same classmate that told him about Hard Knocks, after admitting his failure to impress the owner. The other boy assured Terry he had just the thing.

Terry held the injector up to the light. It _looked_ legitimate enough. He was just nervous about pumping his body full of sex changing nanomachines, much less low-grade ones. Anybody would be.

“Unscrew to remove cap,” Terry read from the packaging. “Insert needle into area designated in diagram below. Automatically disinfects.”

He flipped to another side of the box.

“Side effects include temporary drowsiness, headaches, shortness of breath, and dehydration. Drink plenty of water before and after engaging with the product.”

Nanos had all kinds of uses in medicine, but affordable “flippers” like this one were particularly popular after being approved for public use. Terry knew them from pranks, use among the transgender community, and, more deviously, as a sort of date drug. One just had to stick themselves (or someone else) with the pointy end. The little machines did the rest: quickly rewriting the subject’s physiology into a preprogrammed alternate self. There were many variations. But Terry could only afford the bog standard genderbender. In theory it would harmlessly “sculpt” his physique, hormones, and some internal organs. Even his…

Well, there couldn’t be too much to worry about. They wouldn’t sell them if they weren’t safe! Plus the injectors were totally reversible. You just had to buy another one to flip you back.

Once he had a job at Hard Knocks, Terry could afford anything he wanted. He could pay for school and cost of living and maybe even save a little something left over. The little silver phial could give him a whole new life.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “It’s not like I’ll _really_ be a girl. If I don’t like it, I’ll just quit after I have enough to reverse it. I can figure something else out from there.”

The only water Terry had left in his room was from the tap. It tasted terrible. So he opened his minifridge and checked the expiration date on a remaining half-gallon of milk. It seemed fine, so he grabbed the jug in his free hand.

Next he mustered up the courage to roll down his jeans. The diagram showed several areas where injections were most effective. The thigh seemed like the least objectionable, so that’s where he chose. Otherwise he wore a plain T-shirt and boxer briefs. He wasn’t sure if the process might ruin his good clothes.

“Bottoms up…”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Terry slid the needle into the bulk of his long leg, swilling white liquid to distract himself. It was a stiff prick, to be sure, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Terry pressed the plunger. An effervescent sound hissed from the injector. For an instant he felt nothing, but warmth quickly coursed out of the affected area.

“Ngh!” Terry groaned, feeling the suspension spread. He took another pull of milk. “Oh… Oh man.”

It wasn’t as unpleasant as he thought it might be. The student’s body just felt warmer, and warmer, and warmer. Eventually he realized he was sweating. But that was nothing compared to the painless, fizzy feel running through his extremities, filling his chest, then pumping back out to the rest of him before repeating the process all over again. It did feel… odd. Terry had the strangest mental image of glitter gliding through his veins.

He trembled slightly on the bed where he was seated. Terry crossed his arms under his chest, trying to hold himself still. That’s when he noticed two already distinct bumps blossoming there. The incoming breasts were already tender to the touch, even through his shirt.

Terry’s breathing pounded in his ears. His heart raced — partly from the nanos burning his own precious calories to reconfigure his body mass, and partly from how sensitive his itty bitty titties felt. The promised headache came as well. It made it difficult to think.

He dropped the injector nonchalantly on the floor and chugged his drink. His free hand went to his head, hoping to massage a temple. What he found was long, red hair already falling past his jaw, neck, and in some spots his shoulders.

“W-Wow,” he managed. “Works fast...”

Those were Terry’s last words before his unfocused eyes fluttered shut. The student fell back on his bed, overcome with grogginess. The milk jug was empty by then, so all that spilled was a thin drip by the corner of his increasingly beestung lips.

* * *

Terry awoke the next day in his customary fashion: half-consciously reaching to greet his morning wood. Only… this time he wasn’t hard. He wasn’t even soft. As he searched, Terry became increasingly, acutely, worryingly aware he wasn’t really “there” at all.

The confused student bolted upright in a panic. Well, he tried to bolt. Terry was sluggish and still sticky with sweat. His balance was completely off and his chest felt tight.

“Ugh, what the fuck,” said a high, bubbly voice. “Huh? Holy shit… H-Holy shit! Is that me? That is me! Oh my god!”

The final moments before he lost consciousness came flooding back — enough to make sense of his sudden state, at least. Naturally, Terry rushed to the bathroom mirror. Or he would have, if he didn’t trip on the jeans still wrapped around his ankles. He fell harshly onto his hands and knees. He just couldn’t catch a break...

His hair fell all the way to the floor, too, blocking his vision in wavy curtains. But Terry could still see his arms were much more slender. His fingers fanned out as delicate support for what felt like a great deal of weight.

That’s when Terry realized just how low to the ground his new breasts hung. The hard, fat beads his nipples had become struggled against the fabric of his shirt and nearly swept the hard floor. That’s why his chest felt so tight; that was why his balance was off. The buds hadn’t stopped expanding when he fell asleep! They had ballooned from breasts into full-on hooters. Terry’s shirt was so strained the fabric had lifted off his stomach and left the midriff bare.

“W-What...” he breathed. “How did they get so…?”

He slowly turned himself over and wriggled out of the jeans. His underwear, however, would be a different story. It, too, squeezed tight against his body. Hip and thigh flesh spilled around the boundaries. Though Terry’s stomach, once home to a not-very-athletic student’s flab, was smooth and flat. He was like a tube of toothpaste squeezed from the middle. The nanos had redistributed his tummy to his juicy rack, ass, and thighs. 

That wasn’t all they used up, either. Not a shred of body hair remained. His face was clean, too, and felt as slender as the rest of him.

As he stood up, Terry finally even worked up the courage to run two skinny fingers down his boxer briefs.

His once proudly-sized penis was indeed gone, replaced with sensitive folds and a moist little clit that made Terry yelp when he found it. Virgin nerve endings fired a kind of pleasure his male brain had never built any sort of tolerance to throughout his life. Just brushing the fresh pussy sent a sympathetic quake through his hips, causing his full rump quiver with movement.

“Mmmm,” me moaned. “Oh my god. Oh god. Gotta be… careful with that.”

Finally, Terry stumbled into the bathroom. All his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the wet dream looking back at him in the mirror.

The woman seemed shorter than Terry. (Had it really shrunk him, too?) Her pink, plump lips pushed away from a svelte jaw. Long, silky hair poured over what looked like a tiny top over the mega-melons she was packing underneath. Though her eyes had the same green hue as Terry’s, the brows were thinner. The nose was narrower. She had the body of a centerfold packed into the _impression_ of a guileless, twenty-something intern. She was a porn parody. A tramp. A slut.

 _He_ looked like a slut, Terry realized.

“What the fuck,” his new voice cried. “Why the hell would this be the standard model?”

Even as he said it, Terry realized what a ridiculous question that was. This tactless bimbo before him was exactly the sort of lowest common denominator he should have expected. It was just… not what he had in mind.

With some effort, Terry tore off his shirt. The underwear was too much of a hassle, so he cut those away with a pair of scissors. His naked, ridiculous body was still covered in sweat. He needed a shower.

He also needed, he realized, to make due with what he had. He couldn’t afford to reverse this. He still needed a job — more desperately than ever if he hoped to tone down whatever _this_ was. On the bright side, Hard Knocks of all places probably wouldn’t mind if one of their bookkeepers looked like a sex bunny.

“Okay,” he said, psyching himself up. “I can do this!”

* * *

“You must be a new dancer,” guesser Mr. Horn, a barrel chested bald man in a tight blazer. “Hurry on in! We’ll get you prepped.”

“Oh, no, actually I was here about a job,” Terry meekly explained.

He had donned the most formal attire that would fit over his new frame. A pair of once ill-fitting suit trousers hugged his hips and thighs as tightly as yoga pants. The top was a white, men’s dress shirt. It wasn’t near big enough in the bust anymore, so it could only button up about halfway, exposing a shelf of wobbly cleavage that ended in two sharp tips. 

Terry didn’t own a bra; his swollen nipples had no choice but to torpedo the fabric. On the bright side, he had a hair tie left over from an ex-girlfriend. He was able to do his now shining shade of classic red hair back in a thick ponytail.

Overall this meant he could _see_ and _be seen_ in public. Though he still looked like a horny TA on her way to fuck a professor. Any outfit Terry tried seemed mathematically guaranteed to become fetishwear over his ridiculous curves.

“I can tell,” the bouncer continued. He rested a hand on the small of Terry’s back, sending tingles of sensation up his spine. “Lady, I gotta say, you look like you were designed in a lab forexactly this kinda work!”

“Bookkeeping?”

“Dancing!” He frowned. “None too bright, though. That’s okay. You don’t need smarts to shake an ass like this.”

Horn lifted his hand only to slap it low and sharp against Terry’s derrière. The spank knocked a squeal out of his girly throat and set him standing at attention. Just as when he accidentally ignited his new clit, the impact felt impossibly _good_ on his retuned nerves. Its burn spread down and forward, cupping his crotch with anticipation.

God, were women always this wet?

“I th-think there’s been some kind of mistake,” Terry insisted as he was physically ushered into the building.

He had lost a great deal of muscle in the genetic reshuffle, as well. he realized. Even just the strong hand nudging him forward was too much to resist.

It was midday, but the place was still fairly full. The girls wore all sorts of pornagraphic homages that put Terry’s accidental costume to shame. Nurses, maids, cops, and teachers attended to customers in semi-private booths. Onstage a sequined cowgirl twirled around a pole while somehow managing to keep her straw hat from falling off. Though she didn’t mind when her breasts — large, but still much smaller than Terry’s — spilled out of a tasseled bikini top.

Everyone was smiling, laughing, and generally having a good time under the soft music. Terry, who had a healthy appreciation for most kinds of flesh, swallowed. He would have stared awkwardly if he weren’t stumbling forward at the behest of the attendant stranger.

“You’re absolutely right,” the owner agreed. “There was definitely a mistake.”

He finally pushed Terry past a beaded curtain into a changing room. Even more girls were doing their makeup and pulling tight, skimpy scraps over skin inches of skin at various changing stations. Just how big was this place? 

Mr. Horn continued: “Somebody must have forgot to tell you we have enough girls doing the sexy secretary thing. We gotta find something unique for you.”

He proceeded to flip through a set of embarrassing costumes on a rack nearby. Blood rushed to Terry’s cheeks as he involuntarily pictured the slut in the mirror wearing any one of them — and the knowledge that it would be him trapped inside.

N-No,” he stammered. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I should just figure something else out.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Terry, but I don’t-“

“That’s no good. You can be… Cherry! How about that? Easy to remember for a ditzy girl like you.”

“You’re not listening! The thing is… I’m not a-actually a girl.”

The blushing furiously warmed Terry’s face even as he found himself with cold feet. This had all been a huge mistake. His Hail Mary hadn’t just missed; it was being carried into a completely different stadium he was not prepared to enter.

“Coulda fooled me,” the attendant chuckled, still looking through outfits. “Big udders like yours do give me an idea, though.”

“I spoke to you here yesterday,” Terry pressed on. “I used, you know... nanos to try and trick you and get a part-time job, and wound up like this. I don’t know the first thing about stripping, or dancing, or whatever!”

“Ha! You think you’re the first girl with that story? Relax! This sorta thing happens all the time these days.”

“B-But I’m a guy!”

“Nobody else is gonna know that,” he explained, as one would to a toddler. “Just say you’re a girl!”

“But-“

“Just say you’re a girl,” he said in a more soothing voice. “Try it.”

The brawny figure stopped what he was doing and abruptly tugged on Terry’s top. It didn’t take much effort to let his honkers free of their cage. Terry gripped the man’s arms, as much for balance as any sort of struggle against what was happening, while his puffy areola sparked with sensation. Terry let out a weak little gasp.

“Just try it,” the bouncer repeated. “Here, lemme prove a couple _points_.”

With that last word, rough fingers pinched the stiff beads before him. Terry’s gasp became more of a moan as he learned just how different it could feel when a stranger fondled his newly sensitive areas. A handful of the girls saw what was happening, but just giggled at the show and returned to what they were doing.

“What are you… doing,” Terry managed. “St-Stop!”

“Do you actually want me to stop? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah, but-“

“If it feels good, then what’s the problem? Maybe saying you’re a girl will feel good, too. You won’t know until you try.”

“That doesn’t even-“

The stranger swept more fingers under Terry’s happy balloons and squeezed. He squished and contorted his paws around the soft, giving meat, molding both boobs into fascinating new shapes.

“Ngh! Mmmm… Ah!”

Terry clenched his dainty jaw and let his eyes roll back. His tits were triggers firing lightning bolts at his brain. He had never felt anything quite like it.

“Come on, Cherry. Would this feel so good if you weren’t a girl? It might feel even better if you just admit it. Try it.”

“I…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a… girl?”

The uncertainty in Terry’s voice didn’t stop the groper from giving the teats a more pleasant twirl in response. The clockwise motion lit Terry’s mind on fire with rewarding bliss.

“See? If it feels good, what’s the problem? It’s easy to admit you’re a girl with such a lewd body. Tell everyone your name is Cherry and you can use that body to get a job. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Y-Yes. It… It _is_ what I wanted.”

“So say it again. Your name is Cherry and you’re a girl.”

“My name is Cherry,” groaned Cherry. “And I’m a girl.”

“Again.”

“My name is Cherry and I’m a girl!”

More laughter peeled out of the crowd of other girls as Cherry caught their attention once again. Several more had filtered in to watch the show, and the whole lot whispered amongst itself at the new girl’s hazing. 

Cherry tried to blush more furiously than ever. It wasn’t easy with so much blood rushing to her knockers and a leaky, hidden snatch. Her body was confused, but her mind had settled on something she _knew_ felt good — felt right.

“My name is Cherry and I’m a girl,” she repeated through her teeth. “My name is Cherry and I’m a girl! My name is Cherry and I’m a girl!”

“That’s right,” the man agreed, nodding his bald head. “Just keep telling yourself that. More importantly, keep telling the customers that. Rule number one at Hard Knocks is that, if you’re a good girl, you get a reward, just like now.”

“Yes,” Cherry intoned. “Cherry. Good girl. Happy.”

The man finally released her, letting Cherry continue clinging to him while her head dropped forward and she caught her breath at last.

“You did still want a job here, didn’t you?”

“Huh…?” Suddenly her original, desperate reason for turning to Hard Knocks came flooding back, washing over the lingering serotonin from her fondling. “Oh! Yes, I need… I need a job!”

“Then there’s no reason an eager girl like you shouldn’t be our newest dancer.”

“Umm,” Cherry pondered.

It was a lot to take in at once. _Calling_ herself a girl was one thing. Showing off her obscene body to strangers was another. Even just being watched by the other performers nearly made her die of embarrassment.

But it felt good, too. Her slutty new self was literally _designed_ to feel good. She might as well enjoy it while she had it. If she could be rewarded for her mistake, and feel good doing it, even just temporarily, what was the problem? Nobody would recognize “Cherry” as Terry anyway. It didn’t matter how embarrassed _she_ got. Nobody knew who she was, or where she came from, or what she was like. And she could disappear just as quickly without a care in the world.

“I guess,” she started. “I can try it out. I’m not, um, very experienced or anything.”

“Everybody’s gotta start somewhere,” the bouncer posited. “For _you_ , we gotta start by getting you out of these clothes.”

He yanked once again on Cherry’s top, starting at the shoulders this time. The dress shirt peeled away. Her too-perfect torso glinted with sweat under the dressing room lights.

“H-Hey,” she contested. Okay, so Cherry might try stripping just this once. That didn’t mean she wanted someone else undressing her. “Can’t I at least do this part myself?”

“You’re the one who just said you’re inexperienced. You need expert help… Lizzy! Come here for a sec.”

“Yeah boss,” shouted a stripper lounging near the mirrors. 

She had a black, blunt bob and matching lipstick. Her chest and crotch were covered only in low, gold bangles and a low, gold belt, respectively. She smiled as she approached the pair with the saunter of an ancient queen — a very horny ancient queen. Horn didn’t even look at Lizzy as he flipped Cherry around, however, and started pulling down her pants.

“Go get the other cow girl costume,” he ordered. “It’ll be perfect for Cherry here.”

“Yessir,” agreed Lizzy before she bounced off. “Right away!”

“Hey wait,” Cherry exclaimed. “My wallet and phone are in my pants… I need those!”

The man was pocketing exactly those items as she spoke. 

“Relax! I’ll hang onto them for you. There aren’t any pockets on your new uniform. You don’t want somebody untrustworthy to take them, do you?”

“N-No,” she said. “I guess not.”

The girls must have had some safe place to stash their belongings. Cherry wanted to ask why he had to take her things, but a rough finger down the crack of her huge, reactive rear cleared all suspicions for the moment. The man hooked a pinky into her underwear and tugged the boxer briefs down around her knees. She was finally, totally nude in front of everyone.

This didn’t elicit any more giggles. The other girls were themselves mostly undressed. A handful were just as naked as Cherry. They seemed to have had their fun, anyway, and returned to preparing for their customers and performances. 

That didn’t make Cherry any less cognizant of how she was being ogled. She pitifully crossed her arms to hide her bare nipples from the man who had just accosted her with far more than his eyes. Unfortunately, her delicate hands accentuated her protrusions more than hid them.

Lizzy returned to remedy the situation. She offered Mr. Horn the garment she had gone to collect.

“Stay here a minute and help me with this,” the big man commanded. Lizzy smiled. “Cherry, you just be a good girl and hold still.”

“I thought it was supposed to be a cowgirl outfit,” the new girl blurted over her shoulder. “What the hell is that?”

“A cow girl outfit,” Horn reiterated. “Cow. Girl. I said you had big udders. You might as well put them to good use.”

“This is too embarrassing,” Cherry said. “I don’t know if I can do this after all!”

Despite her words, she once again failed to fight back while Horn pushed his hand into the small of her back. He bent her completely over the nearest dressing station. 

Lizzy lifted Cherry’s legs and helped ease her bare feet into the white one-piece she had collected — the one covered with black spots —one at a time. It rode up, up, up until it inevitably caught Cherry’s crotch, drowning the bottom strip of latex between her prodigious asscheeks until it looked as though she wore nothing at all.

“Hey, be careful! What are you- AHH!”

Cherry squeaked as the material more visibly cradled her snatch in the front, pressing her pretty pink button with mechanical insistence.

“Oh fuck,” Cherry continued. “Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

The waterproof fabric kept her dampness at bay, but it couldn’t stop the stars from exploding behind her eyes. She pulled an obscene face no one else could see — focused as they were on her bubble butt.

“Wowee,” Horn crowed. “If you liked that, you’re gonna love your new friend.”

“M-My what?”

It wasn’t hard for Horn to flip Cherry back over like limp meat. That was appropriate enough, given the dairy cow print dotting her strapless leotard. The front was left open around the navel to show off her flat stomach. Otherwise it was exactly the sort of “bunnysuit” Cherry had seen countless times in internet porn. Though this one didn’t come with rabbit ears or a bow tie.

Instead Horn held a round, neon pink contraption. It was tethered to a small switch with a thin cord.

“Wait,” Cherry began. “That’s really too much! Why do I need that to dance!?”

“You wanna do a good job, don’t you, Cherry?”

“Y-Yes, but…”

“Nanos only make you _look_ the part. If you’re gonna _act_ like it, you need to enjoy yourself out there. This will help! Lots of new girls use them, don’t they, Lizzy?”

“Uh huh,” the queenly dancer agreed. “It’s totally normal!”

“Everybody has to start somewhere,” the man continued, moving the vibe toward the window to Cherry’s tummy. “Just relax and be a good girl.”

“That…that can’t possibly be true,” Cherry argued. “If other girls do it the- Gnngkk!”

The device was already pulsing as it rolled past Cherry’s clit. Two dense fingers pushed it deep into the costume, then deep into Cherry, leaving no doubt to how wet she had been even before the toy.

Tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she smiled through gritted teeth, trying and failing to swallow a shriek.

The indecent artifact was actually making her _cum_ as Horn drove it deeper, garroting the crotch latex against her newly minted girl-bits.

Lizzy stifled a giggle. Cherry mumbled another subdued “fuck,” but otherwise finally stopped her complaining. It felt good, so… what was the problem, really?

“That’s right,” Lizzy encouraged. “Doesn’t it feel good, Cherry?”

“I, uh, I can’t-“

“It feels good to be a good girl and be rewarded with a present. Good girls like us love to be rewarded. Whether it’s with money, or pretty new collars, or… something else. Don’t you agree, Cherry? Aren’t you a good girl?”

“Yes,” Cherry puffed. “My name is Cherry and I’m a good girl. I want to be rewarded. Please!”

Cherry’s eyes regained their pre-coital focus just enough to see what set her brain on fire next. The other stripper nestled the cow girl’s pleasure pillows into tiny wedges of latex — held in place with a spritz of hairspray and a lot more optimism. The clingy cups of the cowsuit barely covered her enormous nipples. In fact, they mostly didn’t, easily peeling away from her flesh at the tips. They firmed up her squishy vastness from below without restraining the cream kegs themselves one bit. The suit was clearly not tailored for someone as disastrously proportioned as Cherry.

“Now for the real finishing touches,” Horn explained. “We wouldn’t want anyone mistaking a fine piece like you for anything but the real deal.”

He produced a plastic pair of Halloween-grade horns. They nested neatly in front of Cherry’s ponytail. It was left to Lizzy to get down on her knees and slide a pair of thigh-high stockings toward Cherry’s distracting cooch. They were cow print, of course, and couldn’t even hope to keep the thick leg meat from spilling over their elastic bands.

Her heaving throat was finally fitted with a hot pink collar. At its clasp was a plastic cowbell that rang a pathetic little jingle whenever she jerked her head in sudden spasms of delight.

Cherry was the “real deal.” Her salacious body quivered like gelatin. It was difficult to move _or_ to think. Her charged vagina buzzed. The slightest twitch sent satisfying false signals to her brain that she was being groped again — that Cherry should be a good girl and let her assailant keep squeezing every nook and crack. 

She bit her lip and let her benefactors ogle their creation. Her body screamed to be touched more and more, but they only admired her from a distance. The black-lipped belly dancer hadn’t bothered standing back up, so Horn patted her head appreciatively as she nuzzled his leg.

“Perfect,” Mr. Horn said. “You look just about ready for your debut!”

Cherry nodded giddy compliance, not really understanding, but agreeing just with life in general. Her cowbell chimed idiotically against her sweat-smeared chest.

* * *

“Next we have a healthy new snack for all our wonderful patrons!” 

The announcer’s voice was soft and feminine. Nonetheless, it boomed with authority when it came time to introduce each performer.

For as full as the club had been before, it was now positively packed with spectators and at least one working woman draped over each. The loudspeaker cut through the din and music. Even so, it couldn’t completely drown it out.

“I’m sure you’ll all agree she knows some things about dairy,” the woman added. “You can see them _both_ quite clearly all the way in the back row. It’s her first night, however, ladies and gentlemen, so this cattle might need some prodding. Please welcome Cherry to the stage!”

Applause, cheers, and whistles erupted as Cherry stumbled through the stage curtains. Her sweat sparkled in the spotlights. Her bright, quavering smile distracted from her half-squinting eyes. But most of all she hoped the attendees didn’t notice her shaky legs — unsteadied by anxiety and unseen stimulation.

Slowly, carefully, she made her way to the center and its huge pole. She gripped for support and showmanship while the music and hooting swelled.

Cherry had never danced before. Certainly not like this! But Horn has given her a crash course just moments before propelling her into the arena with another loving spank. He had sat her down backstage in a small chair to watch the other girls. 

All the while he massaged her temples to “help her relax,” which made it impossible to turn away from the lascivious display. Her egg buzzed away happily within her all the while, just as it did now.

Cherry did her awkward best to emulate the women’s mannerisms, twirling and jiggling and soaking in attention, letting herself tingle with embarrassment and just a little pride when they applauded. Nobody seemed to mind when her ungainly melons bounced into the way of her routine.

Eventually Cherry went down on all fours and crawled. Mr. Horn warned her she might get tired otherwise. He recommended this as a way to play up her stage personality while taking a break. She was so very grateful for the advice! 

Though it did give the front row a view of Cherry’s leaky legs. Not even the latex could completely hide the juices running between her thighs as the constant pressure within and validation from without mingled in her mind. She was being a good girl, and being rewarded, and it felt so good!

One patron certainly didn’t mind the dampness. An older gentleman with hair graying at the sides was flanked by two laughing ladies. He leaned onto the stage, then, and smacked the trotting cow sharply between both cheeks. It sent waves of euphoria up Cherry’s spine as it nudged the vibrator and invited her ass at the same time. 

Cherry wondered for a moment if there was a rule against touching the girls. Then she looked at the audience. The building was rife with much, much more than touching. Patrons had their hands down the employees’ tops and skirts. Girls sat in their charges’ laps and kissed them passionately — ignoring the performance altogether. 

She even saw a few high-heeled ankles poking out beneath some tables. The men and women at these booths leaned back in total relaxation, their groins hidden from view but clearly heaving from _something_. If that was normal, then just a slap on the rear was nothing. It felt good, anyway, so there was no problem!

Then she had an idea, and played the strike off with a low “moo” to the crowd. They ate it up just as Cherry couldn’t help but consume their adoration.

* * *

Cherry wobbled backstage with a full smile plastered to her face and yet more pussy juice between her legs. God, that was so much more fun! She couldn’t believe she had been against the whole idea. She would really have to thank Mr. Horn for his encouragement.

He was waiting for her back in the dressing room. He wasn’t alone, either. The meaty figure was accompanied by a handsome young man that Cherry swore she recognized.

“Hi boss,” she bubbled. “Did I do a good job?”

“You did great,” he assured her. “I can still hear the reviews.”

She beamed: “I just wanted to thank you again for this job. I didn’t know it could feel this… rewarding!”

“It’s good that you say that,” Horn appraised. “There’s actually someone else I’d like you to thank.”

“Huh?”

The breathless cow girl looked to their guest. She had received so much new stimuli — so many rewarding ideas — that she forgave herself for being discombobulated. But finally she realized where she knew the young man from.

“Hey! Don’t you go to my school?”

“That’s right,” he agreed with a smooth voice. “I’m glad you still remember.”

The young man had dark skin and a much darker jacket over it. He was muscular, but not like Horn, as his was a thinner, athletic build carved more from exercise than natural-born largeness. His curly hair was shaved short and somewhat flat at the top. His eyes were slim in a way that suggested amusement at all times.

“You told me about this place,” Cherry realized. “You sold me the, um… Well, that thing.”

She was slightly reluctant to recall the injector in front of her unfamiliar classmate. It went against the no strings attached argument she’d made for herself at Hard Knocks.

”He sure did,” Horn said as he snaked behind Cherry. “I’m sure you’re very grateful he helped get you this job.”

“Well... Yeah. Absolutely!”

The owner exerted subtle pressure on her shoulders. Her exhausted legs didn’t put up much of a fight as she knelt down. If anything, she was equally grateful to rest her weary behind on her heels.

“He recognized you on stage,” Horn continued. “He’s kind of a VIP here, you see, and gets early access to any referrals he makes. Referrals like oh-so-grateful girls like you, Cherry.”

“That’s nice,” she murmured, her previous tension draining into the floor as Horn massaged her temples again. She was grateful for that, too. Just as she was grateful for the vibrator still massaging away at her other end. A string of juices dribbled between her low, spread thighs. “It’s good to be rewarded.”

“That’s right Cherry,” Horn agreed. “Which is why I thought you should thank him personally.”

“Yesss,” Cherry said under languorous eyes. “Thank you… so much!”

“That’s good Cherry,” said Horn. “But you can do better. You can make him much happier. Didn’t you just make a lot of strangers very happy?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I guess so.”

“This is the same situation. But instead of making lots of men a little happy, you make _one_ man _very_ happy. You just said how much fun it was to make those men happy, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yesss. Happy.”

“Then you’ll have fun this time! You do a good job, you get a reward. Do you know how to do a good job?”

“I don’t… think… Not really.”

“All those men out there were happy because you used the vulgar body this man gave you to make them horny. So of course he’s still horny, too”

“Ooh! Yes... That makes… sense….”

“And I bet you know his pain after you got him so excited, wearing that egg in your snatch under that indecent costume this whole time. How do _you_ feel right now?”

“H-Horny,” said Cherry. Buzz, buzz, buzz went the sex toy in her snatch. “ I wanna… I wanna cum! Oh god, I wanna cum so bad!”

“Then you know exactly what he’s going through! That’s not fair, is it? It’s not fair for you to use that ridiculous, slutty body to make him feel that same way. Especially not when _he_ gave it to you.”

“Nooo…”

“You should be thanking him.”

“Yesss!”

“You should reward him the same way you want to be rewarded. You should use that body to thank him with a nice, sloppy titjob. Make him cum and mark those big milk jugs.”

“Uh huh,” Cherry insisted. “Titjob. Cum on my tits! Please, let me thank you!”

Cherry could only draw on a decade of internet smut and a handful of girlfriends for secondhand experience in this situation. She had never thought much about guys one way or another. Women were super sexy, of course, which was probably why they worked at places like Hard Knocks. She supposed it was why _she_ worked there. She must have been sexy, too.

But _this_ guy was inarguably handsome. Not to mention nice — nice enough to get her this job and this ridiculous, slutty girl body that felt sooo good. And yet Cherry had used it to make him feel just as pent up as her! That was no way to thank him. And she knew how guys liked to be thanked — to be rewarded. 

“Hard to turn down an offer like that,” the student answered. “You’re sure you want this?”

“Yesss,” she hissed, like the air leaving her head. “Need you to cum. Need to reward you. I know how boys like to be rewarded.”

Cherry unzipped the pair of jeans before her, somehow still anxious about what she would find.

Out spilled a once fairly familiar sight: six inches of half-hard member, already poking through the opening of tight boxer briefs.

It curved slightly even as it rose to greet her. A full vein bulged along the convex side, radiating heat Cherry was close enough to feel. 

It looked clean, though unshaven, but even still her reconstructed nose was overpowered by a scent that rushed to the same corner of her brain as every other pleasant sensation that day. Extra surface area provided by the dick’s impressive girth could only have added to its musk.

“Ooh,” she couldn’t help but groan. A drop of drool was forming at the bottom of her stout lips while she savored the appetizing smell. “You really have-”

“Hurry it up,” Horn intoned as he goosed Cherry’s perched ass into action.

Cherry grunted as all the tension she’d been feeling concentrated in her derriere. She couldn’t keep her tongue from lolling as her mind went momentarily blank. When she regained her senses, the warm salt of cock coated her tongue for the first time in her life. The wet muscle had landed on its crown by chance. The glob of drool flowed down to greet it, lubricating the rod.

“‘Atta girl,” the Horn continued. “Just lemme help.”

He reached around to her boobs once more. His rough hands folded her bounty completely free of their flaps, letting her boobies joggle freely. Cherry couldn’t stifle a cry as the force of her own weight falling loose sent more shockwaves through her easily added mind.

Mr. Horn was making it so easy for Cherry to thank her benefactor. Cherry felt very much at ease, too. Just like dancing, why had she never tasted cock before? It was so strange given how her girly tongue reacted to the taste. 

She sealed her chubby lips around its tip and relished the flavor. Cherry could get used to the experience. It was so easy. Cherry could be easy, too.

“Easy” was just the word for how the solid shaft was claimed by her cleavage. It was quite long enough for the tip to peek between her peaks. But only a ridiculous rack like hers could have swallowed its width so completely.

It felt _superb_. The pressure of pumping, masculine blood against floundering baps warmed her to the core. It was the kind of heat that spread happily to her electrified cunt — the increasingly molten center of her being. 

Cherry dug her pitiful fingers into the boobs to rhythmically lap them against hot pecker. There was a satisfying _shlucking_ sound as she sucked an alkaline substance from the tip, exchanging the precum for spit that continued to lubricate the motion. It forced her to imagine what a cock down _there_ might sound like. It had a pleasant ring to it… Just like her flailing cowbell collar.

The penis twitched and throbbed under the assault, bringing to mind more images of what was to come. Cherry tried to picture that involuntary motion inside herself — as if just squeezing her tits adequately could ever replicate the sensation of a pussy on the verge of being filled.

“Ngh! Just… a bit… more,” the young man ordered. “Fuck, hold still!”

Cherry did just that. She had no choice. Mr. Horn gripped her by the scarlet ponytail, yoinking her vacuum lips off the dick tip. The blazing red nub poking out to greet her trembled with sensation, even as the cock in her mind’s eye filled her so much deeper. Until finally the hardons, both imagined and real, would erupt into syrupy satisfaction.

“Here’s your… reward,” he cried. “Take it!”

Cherry squealed. One white rope flung across her face. She closed her eyes just in time for more pearls of goo to splatter her cleavage, lips, nose, cheeks… Though he had clearly aimed for her open mouth. It coated her inside with its purer, more pungent taste than the precum she’d greedily consumed.

It was an absolutely mortifying sensation. It also made her untouched snatch twitch and throb and finally explode. Her cum-covered squeals morphed into one, long moan. It drew congratulations from a few of the girls who had once again stopped to watch another Cherry show. Lizzy was among them, clapping lightly as if her coworker was still onstage.

Cherry didn’t care about any of that. Her body sang with another orgasm that pushed all thought away. She shuddered and let her face lean limply into the stranger, unable to concentrate with all the stars shooting past her vision.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you, thank you,” she burbled.

She had just _cum_ through her _tits_.

“Aah,” the man sighed into her scalp. “Good… girl. You’ve really… taken to this… being a slut thing… And you are… most welcome!”

He pushed her damp face away from his softening member. Yet more splooge drooled into her gaping, gasping mouth as her head drooped backwards, but Cherry didn’t mind. Her mind wasn’t even really working. She let the semen form a savory pool at the back of her throat.

“Thank you,” she gurgled. Without really thinking, she swallowed some of the substance. Its thickness continued to coat her all the way down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you...”

“Look at that,” Mr. Horn added. He patted Cherry on one shoulder, careful to avoid any wet spots as he lifted her off the floor. ”You really are a natural! Most new girls take at least a night or two to realize how grateful they are to be here. You’re gonna fit in great. And after what I just saw, I’m gonna offer you a full-time position.”

Cherry giggled cum bubbles through her still sticky esophagus. Though she finally regained just a shred of composure.

“Thank you, Mr. Horn,” she turned to tell him. “I can’t stay here, though! We gotta go to… to… Where do I know you from again?”

“School,” explained her smug classmate as he zipped back up. “We go to college together.”

“School! We’re both, like, students and stuff.”

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Horn seemed genuinely perplexed. “You can’t go back to campus dressed like _that_. Somebody might take advantage of you.”

The student behind Cherry snickered. Cherry looked down at her cattle curves and the semen soaked udders floating freely out of her one-piece. Mr. Horn was absolutely right!

“I need my clothes,” it eventually occurred to her. “I look like… like… such a slut.”

There was no judgment in her self-assessment. In fact, she licked more cum from the corner of her mouth when she said it, remembering how grateful she was to look and act the part.

“I did you a favor and threw them out,” her employer explained. “They weren’t gonna work for your routine, so I got rid of them and ordered a new outfit from a place I know. It’ll be here tomorrow.”

“O-Oh, thank you?” Cherry was confused, but… grateful. She was grateful her boss had done her a favor. “What am I supposed to wear h-home, though?”

“Nothing,” Mr. Horn said, and Cherry developed the delicious picture of walking past her classmates nude, leaving them completely unaware who this mysterious exhibitionist might be.

Horn continued: “You’ll stay here tonight. Lotsa girls do, so it’s totally normal. We’ve got some cots in the back you can use.”

“Oh… Um, thank you so much!”

Cherry was increasingly aware of just how much she owed Mr. Horn. Just as she realized her point-coitus glow was getting her ready for round two. Meanwhile, the ever-present vibe reminded her how she should thank a man _properly_.

It seemed like Mr. Horn was going to ask for just that, as he reached into her flooded hole without permission and found the egg inside her. Cherry didn’t object as his fingers mingled with the artificial sensation. She reveled in it. She straightened her back and raised her arms at the elbows, signaling with a smile that he was free to take _his_ reward out of her any way he liked.

But Mr. Horn just removed the rosy device altogether. It left a dull, aching void inside her honeypot. But even the _absence_ was pleasurable in its own way at that point. The emptiness reminded her she could always be filled again — that her name was Cherry and she was a happy, horny slut who missed having something stuffed inside her.

Her disappointment couldn’t stop a giggle as Horn’s hand tickled her folds on the way out.

“Our friend can show you your accommodations,” he said. “He’s been back there lotsa times.”

The younger man agreed that he had — lotsa times.

“And I’ll get this charged up for your shift tomorrow,” Horn explained. “Wouldn’t want you to forget something so important!”

“Nooo,” Cherry agreed as dark, probing fingers explored her asscheek and pushed her past giggling strippers. “Wouldn’t want that…”

One completely collapsing Cherry fell face-first into a rough, clean cot. Her unquiet rack softened the impact, but further cemented her arousal. The nameless student (she had never thought to ask his name) had just aggressively disrobed her down to the hair tie. Her red locks positively consumed her round upper body in half-satisfied disarray. The undressing and sidelong groping had left Cherry _very_ horny. But she couldn’t very well bring herself off in front of the other naked women lounging in the room.

 _I bet they’d like that_ , Cherry mused, remembering the dancers who watched her two unscheduled performances. _They’re even bigger sluts than me! And I’m… definitely pretty slutty._

Cherry considered for a moment when she had become this way. She definitely remembered cumming super, duper hard through her outrageous num nums. She remembered seeing herself as the fiery, green-eyed tramp in the mirror that morning. She even remembered how sensitive her titties had felt when she went to sleep the night before — completely starved for attention after a long day of not having them mauled for some reason.

Anything before that was sort of a blur. Cherry would become too aroused while retracing her steps and lose her train of thought. _Then_ she’d remember how empty she felt without her pretty pink egg, and would nearly finger herself then and there, other girls be damned.

“Hey again,” said one such girl after slipping parallel onto a neighboring cot. “How are you feeling after your first day?”

“My name is Cherry and I’m a happy, horny slut,” replied the happy, horny slut as she grated her hard nipples into her harsh gurney. “Aah! I mean, uh, good. Very… rewarding...”

Lizzy smoldered at her companion, her brown body resting on elbows and knees. She kept her ass high and presented both holes to the air.

“That’s what we like to hear,” she assured Cherry. “The night crew is going to love that.”

“Mmm,” Cherry agreed. “Yes… Wait, night crew? What night crew?”

“The boys who come and check up on us, silly! With so many wet, willing ladies staying here it would be easy for someone to take advantage of us.”

Cherry vaguely remembered hearing about “being taken advantage of” that day. Though she couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing.

More and more girls were filtering into their beds by then. Each of them assumed the same position as Lizzy: shoulders low, ass high, smiles wide. The other girl wasn’t lying when she said there were a lot of them. Cherry had no idea so many strippers slept where they worked! But that raised another question.

“I thought guys didn’t work here,” Cherry contended. “Do they come here often?”

“Oh they cum here all the time,” Lizzy explained. “Mr. Horn doesn’t pay them, though. I think they might even pay him… And _we_ thank them for all their hard work. You know how guys like to be thanked.”

Cherry had some idea. Girls of all different shapes, colors, and sizes suddenly had something in common between their legs. Cherry herself had never actually stopped dripping. So she wiggled her fanny up as high as her tired legs would carry it. This involved a lot of small, wet sounds as her rich thighs couldn’t help but slip all over one another.

The empty ache in her sex had never been more tormenting. Not when she knew something good was finally on its way to fill her back up soon.

She didn’t have to wait long. The backroom door swung open to admit a dozen young men. They had some of the same air about them as the one who’d been kind enough to cum on Cherry’s face earlier. She might have described them as “collegiate.”

They didn’t describe themselves as anything. They barely paid attention to their prey, laughing at each other’s jokes and fraternally slapping at one another instead. One after another they each picked a station and licked their lips while inspecting those between the girls’ legs. Cherry’s sister sluts yipped as virile thumbs and forefingers checked their labia for tumescence.

Satisfied, each unzipped at his own pace, revealing wonderful schlongs as diverse as their targets.

Cherry received the same treatment from an especially tanned boy in a salmon polo. His short, blonde hair was covered in a backwards baseball cap representing the nearby university team. She was more interested in her own lids than what was printed on his, however. As soon as he touched her twat she went rigid — perking her pussy up higher than ever.

“Y-You must be the n-night crew,” she stammered. “I’m so g-glad to meet yoouuu!”

“And you must be new,” was his reply. “You’re not supposed to talk while we work. It really spoils our, uh, concentration.”

“I’m sooorrrrry,” Cherry crooned as a promising little something pressed against her slit. “It’s my first day. I’m just very, v-very grateful!”

“So are we,” he said over many more distracting sounds than Cherry. Sounds like wet slapping, barely controlled grunting, and completely _un_ controlled moans. “Keep it that way and shut up while you take this.”

A positive reply exploded in Cherry’s mind as a thick dick slipped into her cooze for the first time. Her starved muscles seemed to swallow and clench it one inch after another. Her brain completely obliterated all conscious thought to make room for a kind of pleasure it simply didn’t know how to process efficiently. It felt so good and so filling that Cherry easily lost herself in it. That was fine. She was easy, after all.

“Ah fuck,” the twenty-something said against his own instruction. “You… Gnf! ...really are new… Holy shit, girl!”

That was right. Cherry was a girl and a ditz; a slut and a tramp; easy and horny. She would be anything at all — _remain_ anything at all — if it meant more psyche-shattering fullness like the kind stretching against her walls. It built up speed and rippled against the banks, taking her essence with it for a smooth, tight railing.

His ever-so-full-stocked balls slapped against the comfort of Cherry’s vast thighs. When they did, they also carried a thin trail of juice with them, splattering more lubricant for the stranger to massage over his whore’s rump.

“Oh shit,” he offered in praise of her tightness. “Oh shit! Oh fuck oh shit goddamn!”

The real slimey prize was yet to come, however, and it wouldn’t take him long to do just that in Cherry’s manufactured muff. The bucket was ready to be filled. _Cherry_ was ready to be filled in ways and places a solid cock, incredible as she now knew it was, simply couldn’t reach. She wanted more _cum_. She wanted to thank her wonderful champion and get her own reward in the process.

So she pumped and clenched for all her little experience was worth!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck…! NNNGggfff! Mmm...”

Splooge splurted out of Cherry on one end; satisfied tears and deep, happy breaths escaped the other. She swore she felt her insides _grow_ to accept as much of the warm cum as possible. A whole lot of jerking caused her nips to push deeper into the bed and complete the circuit of sensation. She was full of dick and cum and happiness, but empty of brain and thought and shame.

“Damn, bitch.” The frat boy gave her yet more slow strokes in and out of her. He was breathing heavily, but had a lot more stamina than an easy girl like Cherry. “That was something else… You’re gonna be a real popular attraction around here.”

Cherry wasn’t home just then, so Lizzy responded for her, forgetting her propriety: “Oh yeah. My old roommate recommended her!”

The veteran harlot calmly savored her ride while Cherry mindlessly ground up and down her raised seat.

“He’s got a way of finding the very _best_ girls,” she continued. “Like me! We went to a show together once and, I dunno, pretty soon it was like I was a whole new person. He helped me realize I wanted to _be_ one of the girls just a little bit more than _watch_ them. It’s so much more fun to be one of the girls, isn’t it Cherry?”

Cherry moaned her consent. Though to Lizzy or the man moving in behind her to take his turn, she wasn’t even sure herself.

 _One of the girls_. That was right. Her name was Cherry and she was a girl...

* * *

Cherry had been working at Hard Knocks for a good, long while. She wasn’t really sure how long of course. The days kind of blended together when you never left!

Mr. Horn had returned to her on her second day with the promised new set of clothes. They were _much_ nicer than what he had thrown away: a microkini made from so little fabric that you could hardly tell they had the same cow print that had become her trademark. Luckily she still had her thigh-highs, bell, and cute little horns. 

He had agreed to let her work off the cost of the garment by forgoing her first paycheck. Cherry agreed that was a great deal! The hot little heifer got all the dick she wanted just by being her fuckable self. She couldn’t really think of anything she needed money for anyway.

Eventually her boss suggested a more permanent addition to her costume. One of the girls used to be a tattoo artist (before her best friend had poked _her_ with a little needle that had made her want to change careers, much like Lizzy’s roommate had done to Lizzy) and she still remembered how to pierce. So she punctured Cherry with a plain nose ring with a heavy ball on the end. 

That was another week’s pay, of course, and by the end of the third week she had forgotten about forms of exchange that didn’t involve ejaculation.

Cows didn’t need anything else. Cows were there to be bred and milked. She much preferred it when men let _her_ milk _them_ into her ravenous cunt, of course. And she had no shortage of patrons. The school supplied lots of customers (not to mention the occasional new employee Mr. Horn was gracious enough to hire)! None of them stayed in school for long after he did, though. Working at Hard Knocks was just much more rewarding.

This former student had been rewarded many, many times since that first night. Mr. Horn himself fucked Cherry like clockwork. Yet he always had time and energy to spare for all his whores. Cherry looked and acted like cattle, but he was an animal.

Cherry was mostly just for fucking by this point, too. She didn’t dance so much anymore. She had gotten just a bit _too_ good at the other side of her job, Mr. Horn explained. That’s how she had made a little oopsie and gotten knocked up by… somebody. It was anybody’s guess, and cows weren't great at guessing games.

Her swollen belly wasn’t anywhere near ready to pop. However, it made it difficult to stay balanced while stripping, particularly since so much of her new weight had gone right to her knockers. The rest of her had gotten a little bit rounder, too, but this also seemed to make a lot of men happy. Just as happy as her big, preposterous udders.

That was mostly how she thought of them: udders. Big, sloshing milk bags just waiting to be drained. Some guys liked to do that. It made Cherry and her baby bump very popular, even though she could no longer advertise herself to the walk-ins. 

It made her popular with guys like the one Cherry was riding cowgirl (pun very much intended) just then.

“So your name is Cherry, huh?”

“That’s right,” she said. “My name is Cherry and I’m your happy, horny cow, master. Can’t you tell? Moooo!”

He laughed: “Now is that in reference to your hair or how you- Nggghl! Mmm, taste?”

The older man, his own hair graying at the sides, pushed his still more than adequate cock deeper into Cherry. She shuddered, letting her disheveled red crop spill across her milkers. She had really let it grow out while being bred in captivity. Much like her engorged tits, it was now the perfect miracle of science boosted by the power of nature. 

She ran her hands down her plump tummy and tugged at the wedding tackle with all her internal strength. It was his turn to shudder then.

“There’s only one way to find out, master!”

Cherry’s silky hands finally reached his more weathered mitts and slid them back up the belly from which they came. All four finally made landfall on her pointlessly massive teats. They tweaked them together and the gentleman was amazed when they didn’t immediately burst under the tension.

Cherry bit her lip and shook her hips. Her whole body was such a perfect, slutty powder keg ready to get off. It was exactly the sort of thing that led to her little “oopsie.” It was also the happiest and most worry-free she’d been since… she literally couldn’t remember when!

“That’s it, master,” she moaned. “Oh god, I love this job!”


End file.
